


Let's Hang Out Sometime

by TheDumbestAvenger



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Let's Hang Out Sometime, Ned Leeds Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Waking up Restrained, Whumptober 2020, Worried Ned Leeds, im the oprah winfrey of hugs, shackled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDumbestAvenger/pseuds/TheDumbestAvenger
Summary: Peter wakes up in a cramped, stone cell, shackles clamped around his wrists. He only has one thought on his mind, escape.Whumptober 2020 ChallengeDay 1 - Prompt "Let's Hang Out Sometime" - Waking Up Restrained | Shackled
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946023
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Let's Hang Out Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! Welcome to the beginning of my Whumptober 2020 series!
> 
> Firstly, thanks a ton for reading, I hope you enjoy :) Second, I do plan on finishing all the prompts, most of which are already written and the rest are planned. Please, if you decide to stick around, bare with me for a couple of days as posting may be at odd times but not for long.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!! :D
> 
> *Warnings*  
> Blood | Non-Graphic Violence/Injuries

Peter’s head pounded, the _thud, thud, thud_ so loud that he could barely think straight. Groggily, and with great resistance from his muscles, he managed to lift his head and peeled open his eyes. He expected to be faced with blinding lights and have to squeeze them shut again, but he hadn’t prepared for the possibility of the room being just as dark as his closed eyes. In fact, he could hardly make out the wall opposite.

It was stone, that was for sure - the whole room was besides a heavy, metal door embedded in the wall to his left - ragged and uneven and so, _so_ cold beneath his hands and feet. The air was musty and stale and smelled strongly of mould as if it, too, was trapped with Peter and had been for years before him. Now that he thought about it, the stone floor was definitely damp, and he could hear the drip of water falling from the ceiling in the far corner of the room. Not that the corner was far away in any sense, he could probably reach out and touch it if…

If his wrists weren’t shackled to the wall behind his back. Peter twisted around, the cuffs were thick, and the chain itself buried inside the stone, but they didn’t look to be vibranium. That was something. Then again, he wasn’t wearing his Spider-Man suit, and no one apart from Tony knew the truth about the Stark Internship.

Did they?

Sure, Peter hadn’t always been diligent guaranteeing no one discovered his secret identity, but that was because no one paid attention to a kid from Queens when superheroes were out pretty much every other day taking down hordes of aliens. Not even most other kids from Queens, only Ned really-

“No,” Peter muttered, “no, no, no.” He thought back, trying to remember how he got into this situation in the first place. He and Ned were walking home from school, talking about their plans to build his new Lego Deathstar and ignoring Flash speeding past them in his father’s car, when something collided with the back of his head. That would explain the throbbing. After that, there was only black.

Peter considered calling out for Ned to see if whoever these people were had taken him, too, to see if he was even still alive, but decided against it. There was a chance that could make everything worse; he wasn’t going to let that happen. Instead, he strained his ears, hoping super-senses would come in handy and earn some information from the captors.

Sure enough, a couple of gruff sounding voices floated down the hallway outside his cell.

_“How do you know he’ll come?”_

_“We took his intern. Stark will take that as a personal attack. He’ll swoop in like he always does to play hero and save the day, and then…”_

_“Boom?”_

_“Boom.”_

Peter swallowed. _Boom_ didn’t sound like something he wanted to stick around to see.

_“And what about us?”_

_“We’ll be long gone, dumbass.”_

_“Those kids?”_

_“Collateral damage.”_

So, Ned was here. And they had to get out, sharpish. Without a second thought, Peter tensed his arms and yanked them apart, ripping the chain between them clean in half. He leapt to his feet, taking a second massaging his stiff muscles and jumping on the spot to psych himself up, pretending each bounce didn’t send a jolt of pain up the back of his head.

Even if his identity was a lost cause, Peter still wanted the element of surprise when it came to the upcoming fight, so he stepped up to the door and examined it closer. Metal. Again, not vibranium so he could’ve easily kicked it off its hinges had he wanted to; instead, he opted to take hold of the medieval style sliding lock and jerk it backwards, making sure to catch the shattered chunks of metal before they clattered to the floor. Tentatively, he reached out for the handle and pushed. The door edged open.

Peter took a breath, shaking out his hands. “Come on, Spider-Man,” he whispered under his breath. “Come on.” The rusted hinges of the door wailed as he opened it further and Peter dived back into his cell, back flat against the wall as scuffling sounded from down the hallway.

_“What was that?”_

_“How should I know? Go check it out.”_

Peter closed his eyes and took a few deep, steady breaths as he listened to the sound of their heavy boots creep closer, the rustle of their clothes and thump of their heartbeats.

_“The door’s open.”_

_“What?”_

_“The door. It’s open.”_

_“It’s old, probably broken. The intern’s still shackled, just go close it again.”_

Peter took one last breath and pressed his hand over his mouth, not daring even to blink as the captor’s shadow slunk into the cell. A moment later, the man himself. There was a brief second where the man looked at Peter, and Peter looked at the man. He was dressed all in black, a bandana covering all but his eyes and a hat pulled covered his forehead. At his hip, a gloved hand hovered over a knife sheath.

But it was only a second, the man’s eyes grew wide, and Peter used the momentary shock to his advantage, reaching forward and clasping his head in his hands before bringing his knee up to meet it. The man crumpled in Peter’s arms, not dead, but certainly not getting up anytime soon. As quietly as possible, Peter dragged him further into the room and propped him against the corner with the drip, just for that small win of knowing he’d be annoyed when he wakes up.

 _“Sullivan?”_ Peter’s heart hammered in his chest, that voice was closer than he’d hoped, and he didn’t know how many more people could be outside. _“Sullivan, what’s taking so long? Just close the damn door.”_ Peter looked at the cuffs still around his wrists, the remains of the chains hanging down. He didn’t dare move for the sound they would make. _“Fine, I’m coming in.”_

Peter grinned, announcing your entrance? Rookie move. That gave him a little boost of hope.

This guy was clearly on edge already, not only from their unsure voice, but he already had his knife tightly gripping in his hand. Still, there was a second where he froze at the sight of Peter standing over his teammate’s body. “Hi,” Peter smiled, “I’d love to hang out a little longer but-”

The captor lunged forward, knife out as if he were in a fencing match. Peter’s spidey-sense forewarned him, he stepped to the side and twirled around so he’d switched places with the attacker. “That was rude.” Peter aimed a roundhouse kick at their outstretched arm, foot connecting with their wrist with a _crunch_. The knife fell to the floor. “I wasn’t finished.”

With all his strength, Peter shoved the man back against the hard stone wall. He whimpered as he went down, Peter followed him, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him slightly off the ground. “Tell me why you did this,” he demanded, lip curled in a futile attempt at appearing intimidating. “What do you want.”

The man spat. Said nothing.

“You got a bomb. I heard you talking. Where is it?”

He let out a gargled laugh, a twisted smile on his face. “Stark will never know what hit him.” Peter faltered at the thought, the man used it to overpower him and lurched for his knife, twisting out of Peter’s grip and slashing at his calf. Peter bit back a yelp as blood seeped from the wound, he couldn’t risk alerting any other guards.

A scream echoed down the hallway, both Peter and the man turned to face the door. It was, unmistakably, Ned.

“Alright,” Peter growled, fixing back on the man. “I’ve had it.” He leapt up, fingertips sticking to the ceiling, and swung his legs forward so his feet his the man square in the chest. He stumbled and fell back, smashing the back of his head against the wall and fell limp to the floor.

Peter lowered himself down carefully and examined the gash running the length of his calf, it was deep and bleeding steadily, but Peter could still walk so it must be okay. Probably. Right now, he had to focus on Ned. He crept back to the doorway and peered both ways down the corridor, gentle gas lights swayed from the ceiling and lit the way. Empty.

Silently, Peter padded down the hallway. For some unknown reason, the attackers had taken his shoes and socks, leaving the rough stone to cut his bare feet. Identical doors lined the hall; Peter hovered outside each one listen out for breathing or heartbeats from inside.

A _thud_ , followed by another scream. Peter sprinted towards the sound and flung the door open without a second thought. The room was the same as Peter’s only Ned was still shackled to the wall, blood trickling from his forehead, wide eyes staring at Peter. Also staring, three more captors, all dressed head to toe in black, all armed with knives.

“Peter?” Ned’s voice was small, but hopeful. The single word seemed to launch everyone into action. All three ran at Peter, wildly swinging their weapons as Peter bounced from wall to wall - to ceiling - to avoid them. Almost, at least, while Peter aimed a punch to the side of a captor’s head, another sliced open his side. This time, he let out a scream of pain and allowed the adrenaline to aid his fighting.

One guy was already down. Another, charged forward, knife raised, Peter dodged to the side and their knife plunged into the abdomen of the other. The assailant jumped back, into Peter’s fist, while the injured hobbled away. Peter let them. They weren’t making it far, anyway.

 _“Peter,”_ Ned said again, though his time his voice was filled with awe, maybe a little fear, “What the _fuck_ , dude?”

“Uh,” Peter knelt beside Ned, gripped the chain of his shackles, and yanked him free. “This wasn’t the way I planned to tell you.”

“You’re Spider-Man?” Ned exclaimed, rubbing his wrists as Peter helped him to his feet. “Like _the_ Spider-Man? Fought the Rouge Avengers, Spider-Man? Hero of Queens, Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. But we need to go before Mister Stark get’s here.”

Ned’s eyes grew wide. “Shit, yeah. They said something about a trap-”

“Explosion, I think. They want Mister Stark dead, and don’t care about who gets caught in the crossfire.”

“Yup,” Ned nodded furiously, already bee-lining for the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

Peter clutched one hand to his side as they jogged down the hallway, a fruitless attempt at stemming the blood flow. “Are you alright?” Peter asked. “Did they hurt you?”

“Nothing too bad,” Ned said grimly. “Coulda been a lot worse. Coulda been stabbed,” he looked Peter up and down, “twice.”

Peter grimaced. “I’m used to it, let’s just hurry.” He picked up the pace and led Ned towards the very, _very_ , distant sounds of the city.

“That’s terrifying, Peter. Terrifying.”

“You sound just like Mister Stark.”

“He knows? And he still lets you intern?”

They came to a fork in the tunnel, one path heading left, the other veering right. “Ned, this _is_ the internship.” Peter ran to the left; the bustle of the city was louder that way. 

“Right, That makes sense.” Ned followed close behind. He eyed the way Peter hobbled up the inclining tunnel. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yep,” Peter replied a little too quickly. “Anyway, It should be right around-“ They turned a corner, and were greeted by the sight of the tunnel exit, far off city lights glittering in what looked to be a river, obscured by thick trees. “Here.”

“Great.” Ned went ahead. Peter couldn’t blame him; he was more than eager to get out of this damp, musty old cave they appeared to be in. As Ned neared the mouth, Peter’s spidey sense exploded out of nowhere, he dived forward and caught his fist in the back of Ned’s shirt, stopping him midstep.

“Look,” he nodded down at a thin, all but invisible wire running the length of the mouth, a few inches off the ground. “Must be the trap they laid for Mister Stark.”

“ _Shit…_ I nearly tripped it.” Ned’s foot hovered over the wire. He made a deal of stepping over it, Peter followed. “We’re free!”

“Yeah, but we need to contact Mister Stark before he goes and gets himself blown up for me. Do you have your phone?”

Ned tapped his pockets, face falling. “They must have taken it.” 

“Mine too,” Peter sighed. He looked across the water at the city he could recognise from anywhere. “We‘ll just have to get to a phone box or something.”

“Do they even still exist?”

“I don’t know, Ned.” Peter threw his arms up, adrenaline wearing off and leaving him tired and cranky. “It’s that, or go all the way to the compound and hope he’s still there.”

“Or not…” Ned pointed upwards towards the city. A faint dot of light, steadily growing larger. As the Iron Man suit became visible, the boys jumped and waved their arms, trying to attract Tony’s attention, but the trees were too dense and Tony too laser-focused on the cave. “He’s not gonna see us.”

Peter ran towards the cave, yelling for Ned to stay put. Ahead of him, Tony landed in his signature pose before straightening up and heading for the cave mouth. Peter closed in. “Wait! Mister Stark, don’t-!”

Tony tripped the wire. Peter’s warning came too late to stop it... but not too late for him to react. Tony whirled around, thrusters already engaged, and flew directly at Peter, scooping him up under the arms and flying high into the air. A fireball chased them up, and Tony climbed higher still so Peter remained unharmed.

“Kid,” Tony flipped open his faceplate once the blast had dissipated. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, Mister Stark.” Peter glanced down, the trees closest to the cave’s mouth were burning, flames licking along the branches and illuminating Ned beneath them, the force had knocked him back onto his hands, and ash coated his face. But he was alive. “Could you, um, put me down now?”

“Right,” Tony cleared his throat, “of course.” He lowered them down, the second Peter’s feet touched the ground, Ned enveloped him in a hug. Tony dematerialised his suit, standing awkwardly to the side. 

Pete reached out and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Come on, Mister Stark. You’re not getting out of this one.” He pulled Tony into the hold, smiling at how _normal_ it felt.

A female voice cut through the moment. _“Boss, I hate to be a killjoy, but Mister Parker requires urgent medical attention.”_

Tony sprang back, already assessing Peter for injuries and swearing under his breath. “I thought you said you were fine!”

“I am fine!” Peter shot back. He looked down at his blood-soaked shirt. “Ish.”

“Fine _ish_ is not good enough, Fri, get me medical over here, now.”

“It’s not that bad, really-“

“It’s pretty bad, dude,” Ned admitted. “You could barely walk outta that cave.”

“Snitch.”

“What! I don’t want you to die. I just found out my best friend is Spider-Man! This is the best day of my life.”

Tony turned to Ned, an eyebrow raised. “You got kidnapped.”

“Yeah. And then _Spider-Man_ saved me.”

Tony sighed as the sound of the Quinjet approached, shaking his head. “Kids.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading if you've made it this far!!
> 
> It's not /quite/ October where I live but we're so close but this is the only time I can post. The next couple days might be at odd times, but after that expect early morning BST/GMT. (Thanks for bearing with if you decide to come back for more :P) 
> 
> I'd if you could drop a kudos, they mean a lot, a comment would give me the serotonin needed to get me through a week! Plus, if you want to come yell at me, my Tumblr is thedumbestavenger
> 
> Thanks again! <3000


End file.
